How foolish a terrorist syndicate such as this must be. Attacking mere blocks away from the Ansgar's Hand's headquarters- not to mention attack the capital with little more then a battalion of rogues and sellswords. Pathetic. Major Hakon Kilandre had already set in motion the platoons of heavy cavalry patrolling the streets as well as those still within the barracks.
As she finished tying her enchanted armor over her body, moving to her already viciously armored warhorse- Purgatorio- she couldn't help but smile viciously. How dare they? Those poor souls just incurred the wrath of God with this mindless slaughter. Death should only be wielded by those willing to embrace it- and these men fought like mad dogs, afraid to fall to eternal sleep. She would gladly deliver them to it with the help of her men. Not to mention Aven was out there, but she was confident he could care for himself- wait. She paused as she cupped her faithful destrier's face in her hands. Had he planned this? No- no! He was not so rash and brusque- this must have been the work of a seperate syndicate, he was far more clever then that. She moved about Purgatorio's flank, swinging onto the massive charger's back with ease, the armor screeching in protest as the monster and rider began to move forth," Ansgar's Hand- Smite the murderers!"
"OOH-RAH!" the heavy cavalry's movement was akin to that of thunder.
Groups of 5 horseman each ripped through the narrow streets, plowing down the rebels and sellswords with merciless precision while shoving aside civilians roughly but, nonetheless, to safety. It was akin to placing stalks of wheat before the scythe- or throwing pebbles at an advancing demon. Twas magnificently merciless.
Hakon road Purgatorio alone down a street, her sword dripping ruby droplets, shield sprayed with blood. Purgatorio's heavily armored flanks shone like fist scales as the great white Theocog trotted on. The Major's eyes flickered to and fro as she brandished the scimitar, an eagle searching for prey- before focusing upon a line of sellswords before her- one seemed to be brandishing a hand cannon. Theatrical, but if this armor could stand the force of the very earth crushing against it, a cannon was mere child's play. Thank God for Bhrama- she was truly a master of these metallic arts. With a small click of her tongue, the massive warhorse broke into a charge, thundering toward the line of sellswords as all six hooves cracked against the ground like gunshots- the man seemed tp be facing two innocents. Immediately fury blazed in the major's chest, roaring:
"Face your superior, scum![/b]" bastards- treating her citizens like prey to be hunted and slaughtered!
---
Bhrama tapped away in her blacksmith, ignoring the majority of the sounds of the outside world. That is, of course, until a hooded figure burst into her shop with a war cry," For the rebellion!" Perhaps thinking he had already taken the woman by surprise. Alas- a red hot sword lashes out, promptly dismembering the man's head from his shoulders- the sound of sizzling fat and blood filling the out door shop as Bhrama submerged the blade into water.
"..." she pursed her lips in silent annoyance- the metal would be tainted with blood now- ugh. What a pain. Shutting down the bellows, she noticed two figures outside her shop's side door- a man holding a crowned woman hostage. Ugh. What a pain.
